The question "what are you currently reading" really should have been an easy one. I, naturally, have to go and muck it up a bit. So, I present to you my book shelves (as seen from my dining room table):
(And why I use my dining room table and not my desk, I have no clue. I have no control over where I feel my most productive. I just go with the flow.)
Before we go any further, let's just go ahead and address the giant elephant standing in the center of the room.
There is a shelf missing.
Yes, it's been missing for, oh, a good two years. Possibly less. Probably more.
Yes, there are tools still sitting on the shelves from when I last worked on them... which I think was back around Christmas because we had this giant tree that required us to rearrange furniture and I was actually able to access the problem area. Just long enough to spackle.
There in the corner of this photo you can catch a peek of the stacks upon stacks of books that are sitting upon the railing that divides the dining room from the living room. These books include the ones that previously sat upon said missing shelf and those that I've recently read and since added to the pile.
In my defense, if I had realized that a few books would have been too heavy for these shelves, I probably wouldn't have bought them. Possibly. But that's neither here nor there.
Look, you don't understand. There is a big, heavy desk in the way of me making repairs. And, really, Ikea should have to come out and take care of it since it's their shelf that can't hold up under the weight of a few measly books.
And that's all I'm going to say about that.
My mom was and still is (when she has the time) an avid reader. While I was growing up, I remember she had boxes and boxes of books that took up space in our garage. It drove my dad crazy. He was constantly moving them from one side to the other, trying to make space where there was none to be found.
I swore I would never box up my books. I wanted them out in the open, where I could see them and flip through them whenever I wanted. (And believe it or not, I often find myself browsing through them, rereading my favorite scenes, and sometimes just sniffing them. That's right. Sniffing.)
What I didn't realize was that the amount of books I owned would continue to grow as I continued to read and eventually I'd run out of space for them. Which is why they're currently stacking up around our apartment and why my husband constantly threatens to hold a garage sale and sell them. So what if we don't have a garage? He'll find a way.
Or he would if he knew I wouldn't file for divorce the very next day.
My books are incredibly important to me. I can't help becoming involved in the stories and characters. Some stick with me for a long time afterward or leave such lasting impressions that I go back and reread them again and again. (Twilight. Need I say more?) It borders on unhealthy, but damn it, I love them.
However, there’s a part of me that wonders more and more often if the books I adore don’t cause me to place unfair expectations on my husband and our relationship. This thought keeps me up at night. And when I can’t sleep, I read. It’s a problem.
So, what am I currently reading? This book by Nora Roberts. I started it a couple months ago, got halfway through, and became sidetracked. I’m finally going back to finish it. After this, I need to finish Three to Get Deadly, another book I got halfway through and set aside. (Reading halfway through books just to finish them months later is not a normal habit of mine. I swear.)
Now you. Currently reading? Favorite book of all time? Do you absolutely love the smell of books like I do???
(By the way, peeps, you've got till Wednesday.)